


Warmth

by mojohwrites



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Bungo I want to know more about our weird Europan Dark Vanguard plz, Could be read Drifter/Eris, Drifter is okay, Eris needs a break, Gen, OMG they were campmates, Sharing Body Heat, Sharing a Bed, When I started writing this I didn’t ship it but now I’m not sure anymore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:16:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29657430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mojohwrites/pseuds/mojohwrites
Summary: Europa is cold, especially if you’re Lightless.
Relationships: The Drifter & Eris Morn
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Warmth

The pyramid hasn’t done a damn thing since they’ve arrived. It scans like the rest of them — empty. The ziggurat is new, but it really only seems to be reacting to the Guardian’s presence. Apparently even the Darkness has special favorites too.

Drifter thinks on this and grumbles as he puts out the campfire for the evening. He figures there’s no use freezing to death out here alone.

He loudly stomps the snow off his boots as a warning and steps through the tent’s door, cold Europan air breezing in with him. As it closes behind him, the lights flicker momentarily and he hesitates, hands gripping his rebreather. Drifter squints up at the bulbs then back outside — a storm might be blowing in. 

It’s not a surprise that the power at the camp fluctuates so often — between himself and the Exo they were able to cobble together a system that draws power from the turbine outside and even leeches some from the structures over the ridge. But the unpredictable storms are hard to account for and oftentimes seems to steal back what little power they use. He’ll have to fix that soon if this “little trip” of theirs is going to be much longer.

It can wait though — Drifter shrugs and finishes removing his snow-encrusted outerwear and armor, dropping most of it in a messy pile near the door. He starts heating some water, lighting the burner with a flicker of Solar. As he waits he glances around the space: the Stranger’s not back yet, and Eris seems to be sleeping over on the ratty cot, curled up inside a sleeping bag. 

Or she’s awake and ignoring him, which is fine too.

The lights flicker again but this time stay off, plunging the tent into semi-darkness. Drifter swears under his breath but figures the power will come back on eventually, so he grabs one of the small lanterns and finishes making himself coffee. It’s pretty terrible, but at least it’s warm.

❅

Drifter wakes up feeling groggy and stiff, a brittle numbness in his hands and feet that he hasn’t felt this intensely since that nameless ice planet. His breath fogs in front of him as Drifter stretches in his chair; for a moment he thinks he’s on the Derelict until he recognizes that it’s a table next to him, not a transmat console. He must have conked out while fiddling with those samples. A blast of wind rattles the walls of their shelter.

“Traveler’s ass it’s cold,” Drifter grumbles with a shiver. The lantern next to him has gone out and there’s brown ice in his cup. He glances around — the whole tent is still dark, and it’s much colder than it should be. So much for the power coming back on. Drifter flares the Light within him, immediately feeling less frozen, but that doesn’t solve their power problem.

As he rises, Drifter checks briefly through the glass doors to the outside. The wind is howling something fierce and it seems the Exo hasn’t returned yet — not that he cares much. She left with the Guardian hours ago to investigate something or other about a bunker crawling with Vex.

There’s a weak sound behind him and the Drifter recalls that he’s not the only one in the tent. He turns to see the prone form of Eris still tucked into a sleeping bag on the cot. She’s shivering violently.

Drifter also sees his Ghost — it hovers just above her, staring silently with that blood-colored iris and illuminating that corner with an eerie red glow.

“What?” he practically curses at it. It blinks slowly at him then looks down at the quaking woman. Though his Ghost hasn’t spoken in years, Drifter _knows_ that look. He actually curses.

Drifter tromps over to the cot and glares at his Ghost, who simply blinks once more in response before disappearing in that strange shimmer, and the tent becomes dark.

“Moondust?” Drifter says roughly, somewhere between a question and a statement.

Eris mumbles something quietly and shivers again, this time more violently than before. Drifter can’t tell if she's fully awake but the trembling isn’t a good sign either way. He wonders just how long he’s been out.

Her back is to him. Drifter cautiously reaches out a hand to give her shoulder a shake, realizing in that moment that they’ve never actually touched before. It becomes lighter than he intended, but with it Eris visibly stiffens.

“Let me sleep in peace,” she says softly, words slurring. But she rolls over to face him; the glowing lights of her eyes seem weak and there’s a pained look on her face.

“Sleeping? I thought you was dying,” he laughs a little at the thought. “Crota’s Bane done in by the cold?”

“Were it so easy… ” Eris trails off as another shiver shakes her whole body. She closes her eyes once more and turns away.

Drifter weighs the options for a moment. He’s died enough times to know hypothermia isn’t a great way to go — but it’s not the worst either. But Eris won’t just hop back up from this if she croaks; you need a Ghost for that. He also knows that letting this woman die on his watch will have consequences. Regardless of how the Vanguard wahoos will react, he especially doesn’t want to explain Eris’s untimely death to the Guardian when they return.

He also has to admit that he _likes_ Eris — she’s grown on him. Eris Morn is broken but fierce. She has a fire that he would never admit to admiring, though sometimes secretly finds himself afraid of, too. But right now her fire is going out.

Drifter leans in close and can almost hear her shallow breaths. “Hey Three Eyes, you still with me?” he asks, uncertainty creeping into his voice. There’s no verbal response this time, though her body has curled into a tighter ball.

“Shit.”

Drifter nervously calls up Solar Light to his hands and extends them toward Eris, not knowing how she’ll react, what with all the weird Hive and Darkness stuff she’s got going on. Before he can touch her though, she hisses softly and flinches away. So much for that idea; he immediately smothers the flames with a frown. For a moment he’s not sure what to do next.

His mind briefly pictures two stray cats curled up together for warmth — they’d often come around the annex to beg whenever he decided to cook anything up between matches. He swears under his breath. Drifter is sure his Ghost is responsible for putting _that_ specific thought there, but after the annoyance passes he realizes that it’s actually a good idea.

“Scoot over,” he orders roughly, and starts removing his heavy robes. There is some shifting and a mumbled response that Drifter mostly ignores — when he’s down to thermals he reaches toward Eris again, placing a tentative hand on her back, devoid of Light. There is no reaction or resistance.

Carefully and slowly, Drifter then climbs into the sleeping bag with Eris. A small part of him questions whether he’s really and truly gone completely insane, but when he feels just how cold Eris’s limbs are even through her base layer, he ignores it for once.

She isn't shivering anymore, which he knows is bad. Tucking in closer, Drifter starts to gently run his hands over her back and arms, carefully pushing the slightest trace of Solar into the tips of his fingers.

“Come on, Moondust.” he entreats. 

When a soft moan escapes from her Drifter almost flinches, recalling other beds he’s shared. It’s been awhile since he’s been this close to someone — usually this kind of proximity is for when someone is either trying to kill him or kiss him. He’s not sure which one Eris would choose, but seeing how she might be dying right now he tries not to think about it too much.

Eventually he can feel her slowly growing warmer, which is promising. Her breathing becomes less shallow and pained-sounding, and Drifter hopes that her lack of response to his presence means she's unconscious. He doesn't want to have to explain himself, least of all to Eris.

* * *

She isn't unconscious, per say, but also isn't altogether there, either.

At some point her body began to slowly shut down, and with it Eris had felt herself become untethered. She floats in a numb emptiness, unable to do anything except think, but even that was difficult. She thinks about the Hellmouth — it was cold there too — and about the countless times she’d been certain she would finally die in that pit, completely alone and still raging till the end.

But she isn't alone now.

There is a pressure; a presence along her spine that starts to ground her with its proximity. It moves against her body and diffuses a dull warmth. Warmth that causes her frayed nerves to fire sporadically as feeling returns to deadened limbs.

It's painful, in a way — but it means she's still alive. Eris starts to settle back into her body again. Not this time.

Eventually she realizes that the presence is another person; she feels a warm breath at the back of her neck and a heartbeat through the movements. She probably would have flinched were her body not so exhausted. Eris isn't touched very often, especially not like this — most people tend to give her space. 

Sai had been the most tactile of their fireteam and Eris often found herself missing those static-laced caresses of her fellow Hunter. Ikora’s touches were always soothing, tainted with Void despite the burning warmth of her dark skin. Even Zavala once reached for Eris — a heavy, reassuring grip at her elbow that pleaded for her to stay safe.

Eris isn’t sure who this presence could be, but she’s tired enough that it doesn’t truly matter. Every muscle in her body feels tight from the strain of curling into herself in the effort to keep warm. But as she warms they’ve begun to loosen with newfound relief. 

Eris Morn drifts off to sleep.

* * *

The lights come on several hours later and Drifter wakes almost instantly. It takes him a moment to remember where he’s at — and that he’s not the only one in the sleeping bag. Eris doesn’t stir despite his surprised movement and suddenly racing heartbeat.

When he calms down, Drifter realizes that she seems better, actually: she’s no longer shivering violently and her limbs are warm. Which is good because he can’t stay here.

Drifter slowly attempts to extricate himself from the bag, holding back a curse — he hadn’t meant to fall asleep. He _definitely_ doesn’t want the Stranger to find him here, half naked and sharing a bed with Eris, nor does he want the sleeping Hunter next to him to awaken. He feels a soft snickering at the back of his mind but resists the urge to yell at his hidden Ghost. 

Drifter carefully untangles their limbs and escapes to frigid air with a gasp. It’s still plenty cold, but at least the heating unit is back up and running. Drifter hastily pulls on his robes and jacket, casting around for his rebreather as he grumbles to himself. He finds it moments later on the worktable he’d been sitting at earlier.

He desperately wants to get outside and check on the power cables as soon as possible so this won’t ever happen again.

Before he heads out into the Europan storm however, he pauses near the cot. Eris is still sleeping, but there’s a curious look on her face. They’ve been sharing a camp for awhile now — he has definitely seen her sleeping before — but Drifter is fairly certain she’s never looked so peaceful.

He shakes his head and ignores his Ghost, who silently reminds him that he’s not as terrible as he allows people to think.

❅

Eris doesn’t say anything about it later, and Drifter sure as hell isn’t going to. 

She seems to rouse from her sleep when he returns, but Eris remains silent as he stomps around and double-checks the other systems. Eventually she sighs and approaches the stove, hopefully to make something for them to eat — everything she makes is better than the bland rations, but he’s not about to admit _that_ either.

When the Stranger returns sometime later there is no mention of the power outage — though he suspects she can probably tell something happened due to how cold the air inside still is. As with most things, she keeps it to herself.

The storm eventually dies down and they leave all together to meet with that bug Variks — something about a plan to stop the new kell from idiotically fiddling with that damn Vex portal — but Drifter doesn’t really pay attention, honestly. He apathetically flips a coin while they talk.

What he does pay attention to are the handful of brief glances he catches Variks making between him and Eris. A calculating look crosses the Eliksni’s mostly hidden face — Drifter has been around the Fallen long enough to know how to read their expressive eyes and instantly becomes suspicious. He decides to hang back after the others have left, just to see how much Variks knows.

There's a long, quiet standoff as Drifter casually crosses his arms and leans against the decrepit computer station. The old Eliksni makes a soft chattering noise and taps his staff on the ground — Drifter folds.

“Well?”

“You and the woman named Eris. Your scents are mingled, yes?”

“Now listen, you ether-chugger—”

“—I do not make threat.” Variks interrupts, holding up several hands in a placating gesture. “Only make an observation.”

Drifter points at him threateningly, anger still flaring. “If you mention this ‘observation’ to anyone else, I’m taking that other arm of yours to hang on my ship.”

The once-warden’s eyes narrow but he nods slowly in agreement, an annoyed chitter escaping from beneath his chainmail mask.

“We can be friends, yes? Variks holds many, _many_ secrets.”

“Sure,” he mutters. He gets up to leave, now that they’ve come to an agreement of sorts. Variks makes a soft warbling sound that causes Drifter to pause and glance at the Eliksni.

“It is good to find companionship, yes?”

“It’s not like that.” he grinds out through his teeth.

Variks chitters again, but this time Drifter knows he’s being laughed at, the bug doesn’t even try to hide it. “Perhaps not.”

* * *

When the power suddenly goes off again a week later, Eris is fully awake this time. According to a clock nearby and her own circadian rhythms, it’s somewhere closer to evening — between the constant storms and eighty-five hour day-cycles, Europa itself cannot be relied upon to tell time. 

Drifter curses loudly as the lights go out, which isn’t surprising to Eris, but she gives him a condescending look all the same.

“What, man can’t cuss now?” He sneers back, still able to read her expression in the dim light.

“The filth that spews from your mouth isn’t what surprises me.”

“Then what does, Three Eyes?”

“We are faced with inconveniences often, but this one seems to be particularly displeasing. Why?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Drifter looks away with a frown, and Eris gets the distinct impression that obviously it does matter a great deal, but the man isn’t going to be forthcoming. He readies himself quickly and stomps angrily over to the door, which he has to manually shove aside. Eris holds back a chuckle as he haphazardly struggles with it for a moment before she is left alone in the semi-darkened tent. Her breath fogs in front of her in a hazy cloud — the temperature has already begun to drop dramatically.

Eris dispels the fragment of Stasis crystals that she’d been studying and pulls her jacket tighter around her. It’s hard to tell with Drifter whether this inconvenience with their power supply is something that will be solved quickly or will take some time. Eris wonders for a moment if there is anything she can do to help. Their encounters with the banks on Titan and Io proved that the man worked well under pressure but that he also tended to be less forthcoming about the need for assistance.

She pulls her cloth mask up around her face and reaches back for the hood, trying to conserve body heat. The cold isn’t a pleasant thing, but manageable.

Eris then moves from her seat and climbs into her sleeping bag — she’s not tired yet, but the material will help retain what warmth remains. The shard nestles near her chest and pulses lightly. As she settles on the cot, the Drifter returns, grumbling as he pushes the door aside again. When his eyes settle on her, Eris sees him visibly stiffen.

“Something wrong, rat?” she asks, almost defensively.

“Not a thing,” he hisses from under the rebreather, but Eris can see his eyes. He’s nervous. 

Eris has spent enough time with the Drifter now to have seen a veritable rainbow of expressions from the man, but nervousness isn’t one that he displays often. He tends to smother it under a false, abrasive confidence. 

“You aren't… planning to get to sleep now?” Drifter asks awkwardly, opening an electrical panel while casting a quick glance at her, the mask discarded. A small flame flickers in his hand — Eris hadn’t noticed how dark it had become.

“No. Just taking a precautionary measure.”

“Right.” There’s that nervousness again, which he seemingly tries to hide by turning away. She hasn’t seen him act this cagey since the Prophecy. The tent is swallowed up in blackness momentarily as the Solar light is extinguished.

Eris watches him work for a moment, her softly glowing eyes penetrating the darkness with senses that don’t need light anymore.

“Is there something I’m missing?” she asks.

“It’s just…” Drifter trails off, the answer hanging in the air while he seems to be gathering enough courage to proceed. “Well the last time the power went out… you uh… You didn’t take it too great.”

She stays silent: waiting for him to continue, wanting to see how far this will go, wondering what he’s getting at. She has a vague understanding of what he’s referring to but doesn’t want to scare him off — this is uncharted waters for both of them. The shard beside her quivers briefly, sensing desire.

“You don't… ?” He doesn’t finish the statement, and coughs nervously when she tilts her head patiently.

“I, uh… had to help you out.”

He seems reluctant to explain any further. There’s a stretch of silence only punctured by the slight rattling of their tent from the winds outside. She feels him staring at her through the darkness, perhaps searching for a reaction for several lingering moments before Drifter eventually returns to the panel with a grunt. Eris looks down at her hands.

“I recall the cold,” she says softly to the silence. “I was floating in the darkness, in the numb chill before death. Then I was joined by a presence, though at the time I didn’t know whom. A friend, perhaps.”

Eris looks up at the Drifter, who has stopped fiddling with the wires in front of him. The meager light coming through the glass shifts and there’s a mixture of emotions crossing his face before finally settling on a resigned weariness.

“You don’t want someone like me, Moondust.”

“It seems that fate has other plans.”

He makes a noise of frustration — and possibly disagreement — then slams a fist against the side of the machine. Eris isn’t startled by the noise, but is intrigued once again by the man’s anger.

“I make my own choices, always have. No fate but the one I make.”

“Is that why you find the Emissary's words so distasteful?”

“That’s… different.” he hedges, looking briefly uncomfortable again.

“I understand,” she replies solemnly, not quite knowing if he realizes the depth and sincerity behind the simple phrase. 

She’s wrestled with this before — has wondered if she is the weaver of her life or simply a thread in this complex, paracausal tapestry they find themselves a part of. The bone she keeps might be a shuttle or a noose; but as the closest thing to a companion she has, Eris isn’t willing to part with it just yet.

 _I understand_. The words echo in her mind and she knows deep down the phrase is also an extended hand, a gift offered. It comes from a place of vulnerability that she’s had to protect for so long in order to survive after losing everyone she knew and cared for and understood so well.

More than that, the phrase is an acknowledgement of each other’s brokenness without judgement — or pity.

But Eris doesn’t expect a reply, especially from someone like Drifter. She shivers slightly from the cold and buries herself deeper into the sleeping bag without another word. From across the tent she can feel him watching her intently before Drifter returns his attention to the problem at hand.

Though he’s silent, she notices that he seems less nervous. One might even hazard calling his demeanor contemplative. 

Eventually the machine in front of him rumbles to life and the lights flicker back on, normalcy returning as the moment passes. A pleased smile stretches across Drifter’s face as he looks back up at Eris.

“Got it!” he says triumphantly. Then his eyes soften and he repeats himself.

Beneath her mask Eris smiles gently, feeling something within her ease as the shard stills, unneeded.

❅

**Author's Note:**

> From my beta reader: aNd ThEn ThEy MaDe OuT ;P


End file.
